


where you seek comfort

by RingAroundARosie



Category: RWBY
Genre: Angst, Emotional Baggage, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Oscar's not that far behind, Ozpin's in a dire need for therapy, Your new best friend is this strange little abuelita and that's okay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:20:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22047769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RingAroundARosie/pseuds/RingAroundARosie
Summary: When Ozpin disappears, Oscar is left to pick up the pieces on his own.
Relationships: Maria Calavera & Oscar Pine, Ozpin & Oscar Pine
Comments: 7
Kudos: 120





	1. Pain

He feels tired.

With every step that he takes away from the site of the train crash and onto the trail that the old woman who had decided to join them had found, he can feel the whirlwind of emotions that had surrounded him only just moments flicker before dying out. Maybe it's the adrenaline finally wearing off, all from the rush he had when they had ultimately found the truth behind the secrets that the old voice in his head was keeping from them.

Ozpin had been distraught, afraid of the answers that Jinn could give the team. Oscar knew it when they both saw the Relic of Knowledge in Ruby Rose's hands, and in that moment, both Oscar and Ozpin had come to the same conclusion; the only thing now standing between them and the truth was Ozpin himself.

Before Ozpin had realized what was happening, Oscar had lunged violently and to seize the controls from him in a violent effort to take back his body, to take back what was rightfully _his_ ; the ensuing struggle over both his mind and body had immediately become even more painful beyond his wildest dreams. He remembers his head feeling like it was about to be split into two, his body screaming from the agony of being pulled both ways as the two minds each grappled for the controls. _Let me handle this, Oscar, please,_ had rang pleadingly, desperately in his ears - or was it his mind? Oscar wasn't so sure what the difference was anymore because he wasn’t even sure of who the one in control was - while he vehemently tried to make his body to move forward so they could take the lamp back from those hands that would lead them to their demise.

'Not us,' Oscar remembers thinking viciously as the malice that he had never felt before in his life bubbled up hot and scorching inside him. 'Just _you_ ,'

' _No,_ ' came the reply, and Oscar had never heard him this distressed and frantic in his life before. ' _You don't understand.'_

But with all of Ozpin's focus on having Oscar's body move, Oscar had glimpsed inside Ozpin's thoughts - _They're_ our _thoughts, now_ , the old wizard had once said, and oh, how right he had been - and had seen and understood how to use the Relic and _win._ The answer was only moments away. He could do this. Victory would be sweet, and it’d be his own.

Except, it _wasn't_ a victory. Oscar _didn't_ win. All hope that he's ever had of helping those who needed him was snatched away with every additional word that was added to Jinn's story, but that hadn’t been the only thing that had been sapped out of him. So much for not wasting the rest of his life on the farm. As it turns out, leaving the farm wasn't any less of a waste, either. Jinn's story hadn't been a pleasant one for anyone watching, nor for anyone involved. It was, for lack of a better word, a mess.

It still _is_ a mess. That hasn’t stopped yet.

'You lied to me,' he angrily thinks as he trudges through the ever-growing layers of snow. 'And now I know that you wouldn't have stopped. We did what we had to do. You forced our hand and brought this on yourself.'

Opzin doesn’t reply. He's met with silence as the only answer.

'This is _my_ head,' Oscar snapped at him. 'Are you seriously going to hold yourself prisoner in my own mind? What am I to you, a _joke_?'

More silence.

'And why would you keep this information from us? What do you have to gain by keeping _me_ in the dark about this, when I'm supposed to _become_ you? Wouldn’t I have found out everything eventually? What was the purpose of hiding this from _me_?'

'Am I just to be another one of your expendables? A pawn for you to use, until you _throw me away_ and move onto the next person?’

'You convinced me to leave the farm for what, a war that _you don't even know how to end_? Is everything that you’ve told me just one big lie? Why would you do this to me?’

‘ _Why?_ ’'

Every bitter question that he throws at the old man hidden inside his mind was thrown back as if it had hit an impenetrable wall that kept everything out, including Oscar himself.

_'Answer me!'_

......

Silence.

Other than the sound of shoes walking on the snowy terrain and the occasional sigh and shiver, there were no signs of conversation within the broken team. It's freezing out here, and he can feel his Aura being drained little by little as the cold wind whipping all around them steadily grows stronger and harsher. At this rate, he’d freeze to death before they reach Argus. He concentrates on keeping his Aura steady, and as he does that, his grasp on his anger slowly ebbs away. His aunt did always remark that he could never stay angry for long anyways, and he certainly knew that he wasn’t the type to hold grudges, either. The cold slowly subsides somewhat, and now the only thing left is the dreadful silence that he is forced to endure. With Ozpin refusing to answer his questions, his thoughts echo in his head quietly. With no one to hold a conversation with, the thoughts gradually shift to self-reflection.

It's all too…… complicated.

He sighs a little too loudly, and he sees his breath freeze immediately in the cold. Ruby turns her head towards him at the sound, as if she's checking to see if he's okay. Whether or not she's really worried about him when they all know there’s a liar sitting in his head was a question that was begging to be asked, but Oscar doesn’t want to think that she could be anything _but_ good intentions. He barely summons the will to give her a faint smile in reassurance before she silently returns it and turns back to face forward, leaving him alone to wallow in the increasing pools of anxious self-doubt.

He chews on his lips as he recounts Jinn’s tale, and slowly moves onto speculation. What would've happened if word got out that the world was to fight against an immortal being that was incapable of being destroyed, that this war against the Darkness that's been going on for the past thousands of years might never truly have an end? What then? Oscar can feel the answer come to him little by little, piece by piece, as if it was the water dripping down from a loosely tightened tap that was slowly gathering into the sea. By all means, Ozpin would’ve been more than accurate when it comes to predicting the reactions of the populace. A mass hysteria, most likely. And all Ozpin’s knowledge of mass psychology suggested a further divide among the people, too. 

'As if the current divide between humanity and Faunas wasn’t enough,' Oscar thinks bitterly, as he steals a glance at Blake Belladonna. Her feline ears were drooping down in the cold as to lessen the heat escaping from them. Would other Faunas be blamed for this war even though the overwhelming majority of them had no part in it, just as they've been for thousands of other crimes that they were unjustly accused of? Was that why Ozpin had instructed them to lie to the people of Mistral about Lionheart? That despite Menagerie’s brave, voluntary actions to take up arms for Haven, Leonardo Lionheart’s betrayal against them would only render their earnest help into naught in the eyes of spiteful, discriminating humans?

All of a sudden, it struck him. _Ozpin's attitude suddenly made sense_. They weren't the actions of a man who kept the truth behind the wall so he could use others for his own selfish gains, but for the protection of others. Fear and negativity brought Grimm, and the appearance of Grimm generally brought more fear. The information _had_ to be controlled to those who could contain their negativity, kept to those who knew how to use it to their advantage. Without it, a downward spiral was the only result that could possibly happen. He understands too late now. He hadn’t back then, and oops, now it was too late. Oscar would've face palmed himself if he wasn't so focused on clutching his arms in an effort to keep himself warm.

But that wasn't all, was it? There was something else that’s eating away at his conscience, something else that keeps bothering him in the back of his head. It’s the one that keeps his heart beating uncomfortably guilty, an unbearable truth amidst his dwindling spite and anger.

Regret .

Ozpin was gone. They had blamed him and chased him away. And with it, they also destroyed the steady supply of help that they didn't realize they were receiving with his literal millenniums worth of memories and experience. Never mind that Ozpin’s training was the only thing that helped half of their party to hold half a decent fight in hand-to-hand combat. Never mind that he was the only one who's given them any semblance of a direction in their preparations for the fight against Salem’s people in Haven. The said man had decided to retreat into the corners of Oscar's mind, and refused to interact with them any longer, all because some kids had lashed out at the only man who had just the slightest bit of capability of giving them guidance. 

Before Oscar could even so much as confront the man in his head himself about his own issues regarding the matter, a door had been slammed shut in his face, so high and strong that even the mightiest mental push that he’d given it was in vain. Somehow, for some reason, - and he argues that he might be justified instead of being ashamed for his selfishness in this - he feels like the solace of having his mind whole again might help. What a joy this was, having his own mind back without the nagging presence of an old man who kept insisting that he could do no wrong. Right?

Wrong.

Near him, Weiss Schnee shivers violently before she pulls on her red scarf tighter for warmth and hugs her arms. She looks colder than he had ever seen her and yet, with a bitter taste in his mouth, Oscar can't help but feel as if _he_ is the one whose feeling of discomfort was the one that the rest of them would never sympathize with. He shivers, and it isn't just because he’s cold. His chattering teeth are already an attestation to that. This wasn't a physical issue. This was something much more _psychological_.

How is it possible for a mind feel so _cold_ , he wonders as he desperately pulls down his shirt sleeves in a useless effort to stay warm. It does absolutely nothing to stave off the freezing sensation that he’s been shoved into. He carefully reaches out within his mind to whatever that had provided him with warmth before, and finds instead in its place a blockade that he cant seem to get through. Is it the metaphorical door that had been slammed into his face earlier? He pushes against it, hoping to find some access to the closed off corners of his own mind, and concludes that yes, it was. The exact same corners that were supposedly his had been shut down, as if entire chunks of his memory had been forcefully taken away from him.

 _No_ , his conscience whispers, and it's not Ozpin’s voice that speaks. Ozpin’s not there, anymore, remember? Just him. _Not taken away. Taken_ back _._

Taken _back_? Oscar questions himself. What's _that_ supposed to mean?

And then it hits him.

There's a gaping void - a vast feeling of emptiness - that Oscar can’t seem to fill on his own, because whatever memory that had taken place in the available residence of his mind was never his own in the first place. Years, _millenniums_ of memory and experience, just simply gone at the blink of an eye. Hidden. Locked away. The additional feeling of claustrophobia was about to drive him crazy, because he has no idea where it could'ce come from when he knows for certain that he's not the one being held captive in his own mind. _Ozpin_ was the freeloader, not _Oscar_. A _parasite_ was what Ozpin was to him.

So why, he thinks with guilt slowly gathering in his stomach like hot melted glass, _why_ was he feeling this way?

Because he wasn't thinking straight. Oscar reflects on this with a heavy heart that steadily becomes more and more leaden with every additional train of thought. Because he was acting out of spite with an ever-growing urge to know his place in the group other than just being Ozpin's vessel. He was just as estranged as Maria Calavera was among their tightly knitted friendships and camaraderie - and Qrow certainly didn’t help, what with him never calling Oscar by his name but only by the name of his deceased boss. And how right he was, he thought morosely as the cheek that Qrow had struck stung painfully in the biting cold. Did having the truth that he had so feared being shoved in his face make him feel any better? Did hurting Ozpin like this make him any less vulnerable to the eventual merge that would happen?

No. It didn't. And now he’s gone and compromised the only man that could make him feel better about his place in the world.

 _That's_ what's wrong. He isn't cold because his Aura is draining at a faster rate than before, no, of course not. It's because _Ozpin_ is gone. And only when he's gone and unresponsive does he realize that _he needs Ozpin._ Why, oh why, did he have to make things difficult?

_"Do you really think Leo was the first?"_

No, he hadn't been. Salem had been the first to betray his trust, the moment she denied Ozma's mission of saving the second wave of humanity in favor of her own self-interest. How many more had betrayed him this way? Is it possible that Ozpin had told the truth to someone and had trusted them for help in a war that he couldn't even dream of getting out of, only for them to turn away when he needed them at his side? Something hot pools behind his eyes at the thought, and it's all that he can do to keep them there as they hang onto the very ends of his eyelashes and threaten to fall. A suffocating feeling rises in his chest too quickly for his liking, and he desperately holds his breath so the others can't hear them escape. The man had been practically begging them to not force him to tell them the truth, and they had paid him by stabbing him in the back. Ozpin had been betrayed one too many times, and it didn't help Oscar's conscience to know that _they_ had been the final straw.

_"You can trust us! We're not going to turn our backs on you!"_

Yang's words rang in his ears as if they had just been sounded. The irony of the resulting situation was not lost on him. In his paranoia and repeated trauma of being betrayed, Ozpin had been hesitant in trusting them with the whole truth - and in the process of convincing him to do so, they had instead done exactly as he feared.

Oscar can feel his mind drift back to the moment where the control of his body was dropped back into his hands. No, not into his hands, that was wrong. It was just...... dropped. With no one else to take hold of the reins, he had no choice but to just pick them back up, and when he does, his cheek immediately stings, as does his back. Oscar realizes with a jolt that Ozpin hadn’t bothered with engaging their Aura, and he bites down on his bottom lip hard whene he considers one very glaringly obvious answer on what that might've meant. Did Ozpin think he deserved whatever abuse they were about to throw at him and blame himself for it? Because that’s what Oscar thinks he might've been doing when he remembers that it wasn’t just his body that ached, and that he wasn’t just hurt physically. His heart had felt like it had been bleeding, and oh, how it ached; Ozpin had been hurting, whether they realized it or not. The young, four former students of the Beacon had been rash, but the Headmaster could make plenty of excuses for them and defend their actions even if it killed him _because_ they were young. And Qrow's disappointment? That was a different case entirely.

Qrow turning back on him had hit the old man harder than they had all realized; this was the right-hand man who had searched for him when he died, the man who had risked his life for him countless times, the one who he had sacrificed a part of his own self so he could trust him to become a vital source of intel on the front lines. Qrow was the only one in their group that Ozpin could fall back on in terms of keeping secrets, and yet when the man needed him the most, the Huntsman had decided that he'd had enough and turned away.

And Ozpin had taken it _hard_.

' _He was used to this,_ ' Oscar thinks. ' _He was used to people turning their backs on him, and we still managed to hurt him._ '

Oscar still remembers every moment of Jinn's tale as if it had been burned into his mind permanently, and his heart skips beats every time he remembers the fear, the anguish, and the familiar feeling of _accustomed betrayal_ that had violently wracked his body the moment when Ruby's mouth opened and asked the question that he thought they all wanted - _needed_ \- answers for. But those feelings weren't his. They weren't. And knowing exactly where those feelings came from - from _whom_ those feelings had come from - doesn't leave him feeling any better. With every thought, his regrets pile up higher and higher until it topples over and the guilt slams into him full-scale - and it feels like _he's_ the one being knocked into the tree this time. The person who had felt those feelings was no longer there, and the worst part of that was that now he _couldn't feel them at all_. Ozpin may have lied to him by omission, but hasn’t he still been there for Oscar when _he_ needed _him_?

And sadly, as Oscar quietly keeps his head bowed and swallows his sobs, he’s afraid that the same might never be said for vice versa.


	2. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oscar finds a a helping hand - or an ear? - in Maria Calavera.

They reach the Brunswick Farms after a long, tedious trek down the trail. The loud creaking of the metal gate seemingly in the middle of nowhere continues to haunt his ears long after they shut it close. It's cold and they're all more than willing to hurry inside for the comfort of being under a roof, but the lack of civilians in the vicinity makes them cautious and wary of the surroundings. Not a single face can be seen in the windows of the buildings, and the chimney that Blake spots isn't producing smoke.

But then Weiss had shivered violently, making it clear that her Aura was running low, and she wasn’t the only one. There had been a moment of silence where they all looked towards each other and silently agreed that dying outside in the cold wasn't worth whatever that was waiting for them in the buildings, and then swiftly proceeded to bust down the doorway. They can take down a Grimm or two on their own anyways, and they really needed to get themselves to some warmth or else they’ll risk frostbite.

“Don’t want to chop our limbs off, do we?” Maria Calavera had said. And they all knew the answer to _that_.

It isn't the Grimm that's waiting for them, however. Weiss very nearly has a heart attack upon finding the corpses, and Qrow immediately forces everyone to the living room of the farmhouse while he goes for patrols alone. Both his nieces had protested against the idea of letting their uncle go alone, but the Huntsman simply shrugs them off before the door slams behind him. Ruby’s shoulders slumped in defeat, and Yang Xiao Long’s face holds genuine concern as she stares out the flapping door. Oscar pretends not to notice, but he can’t help but feel a streak of discomfort run through him as he pushes the piece of furniture back against the door and starts pacing quietly when he returns. It only occurs to him after his third lap that his hands are automatically clasped neatly behind his back, that his feet are moving at a slow, measured pace, that his back is straight with all the posture of a dignified, authoritative man. Just like someone else used to whenever they were deep in thought. Just like -

_(It doesn’t help that he knows his legs are reaching for the pace that someone much taller than him would’ve, and that it would’ve taken him to walk at a much brisker pace if he were to cover the same distance with his short legs,)_

_“Meeting you was the worst luck in my life.”_

_(and maybe he was right. Maybe Qrow wouldn’t be so depressed right now if he hadn’t told them about Jinn. Maybe they would’ve all just been better off if he hadn’t said anything. Maybe he shouldn’t have fought against Ozpin. Maybe he was at fault for all of this, and,)_

_“......Maybe you’re right.”_

_(maybe it wasn’t Ozpin that he’d been talking about. Maybe_ he _was the one)_

The door rattles open, and Oscar looks up as the sound of furniture being scraped against the grains of the wooden floor graces them all with its presence as Qrow finally returns.

"It's the same in every house," Qrow grimly says. He brushes the snow off his sleeves and heads for the fireplace with his hands outstretched. "Bodies, every bed in every home. It's like the whole estate just went to sleep and never woke up."

The snow continues to fall outside the window. The small flakes that didn't seem to be so prominent when they had started walking was now a full-blown blizzard. It's pointless to leave the house now, not when they couldn't even see the trail anymore from where they were. Talk about being between a rock and a hard place. The storm outside would kill them within a matter of hours, but they won't be able to rest comfortably in the house. Not with the dead bodies of the owners, dead in their eternal sleep, never to wake up again. The thought of the corpses upstairs sends an involuntary shudder through him before it’s mimicked by Weiss. The entire estate is creepy beyond measure, and for some reason Oscar can't help but feel like there’s something wrong with the establishment. It's not just the presence of the bodies; something is setting off alarm bells in his head and it’s all that he can do to not run outside screaming. 

By the looks of it, so did the rest of the group.

"Okay then," Ruby says. "Let's do something."

So that’s what they do. They'll force themselves to occupy themselves to do whatever it takes to their minds off the edge, and in the process, they had split up into pairs while Qrow very pointedly expressed his desire to be alone. Oscar belatedly realizes when he's the only one left standing in the living room that the rest of the group had just naturally split up without even asking him to join them, and he can't help but feel his heart sting a little. 

But it's fine, since they probably don't want to hang out with someone who they think has a liar in their head. They’d been very thorough in their desires to keep secrets in their group to a minimum, and he probably wasn’t the first person they’d go running to for their own skeletons in their closets any time soon. Excusing them like this all feels like it's second nature for a moment, and he blinks. Has he ever done that before? He thinks for a moment before confusingly concluding that he hasn't, - where had those thoughts come from? - and then shakes his head to free himself of those thoughts. 

And well…... he’s just so _tired_. Whatever apprehension that he has for this house flickers on momentarily before it's quickly snuffed out by fatigue from his gradually dwindling physical energy; he’s literally too tired to deal with this. Why on Remnant would he ever think that running outside in the middle of a blizzard was a good idea? This place gave them warmth readily available and a roof over their heads, _and_ like Ruby pointed out, it should have a decent supply of whatever they can live on for a couple of days. He’d be able to recharge here and gather his strength for when they leave, and take some time alone to get over the fact that the thoughts in his head is still echoing and empty. This place would be good for all of them.

‘It’s what you’d have wanted us to do, isn’t it?’ 

He doesn’t get a reply. That alone makes him feel lonelier than ever. He sighs in what feels like self-pity, before he sees Maria Calavera glance over towards him in the corner of his eye. Her mechanical eyes are narrowing in an upward slope before she turns towards the bookcase, and Oscar does his best to pretend not to notice.

"You keep that fire fed," Oscar hears the old woman say as her gaze falls on the books waiting to be read. "And I'll find us a story to read before bed."

His eyes trail over to her location before settling on the bookcase behind her. Books. Oscar had loved to read before he had left the farm. It was all he did in his free time, and he had always been saving what little pocket money that his aunt gave him to buy some more at the nearby village bookstore. Normally the sheer number of books that he'd be able to read in this house would have sent a jolt of excitement running through him, but even as Oscar stared at the numerous bindings of the tomes, he couldn’t feel anything inside. Any joy and happiness that had once resided in him had been sucked out and replaced with nothing.

His head wasn’t the only thing being emptied out, it seemed. 

But nevertheless, he sighs again - albeit a little heavier than he had earlier - before he goes to collect firewood from the woodbox. There isn't much left in there after they had used whatever firewood it still held to set up the fire now; he estimates that there’s just enough to keep the fire going until it’s dinnertime before it goes out, and he peeks out the window where he knows Qrow is patrolling the grounds. He glances over at Maria again for a moment or two before he swallows the lump that’s formed in his throat. He doesn’t want to bother her, not when they’ve all had a hard day walking in the cold, but the Huntsman had made it clear that he didn’t want anyone to wander off outside alone. How much was he willing to risk the fragile trust that he was treading on for some more fuel to keep them all from freezing in the middle of the night?

“Um, Ms. Calavera,” he starts tentatively, before she looks up, sighs, and closes the book that she had opened just moments before.

“Not enough wood, is there?” she asks, and he nods apologetically.

"I was just wondering if, you know, if you could come with me to get some more? Qrow told us not to leave on our own, and the rest of the firewood is outside."

“Oh, alright," She doesn't sound too annoyed at his suggestion, and Oscar internally lets out a breath that he hadn’t even known that he was holding in relief. "I’ll go with you. Just don’t expect me a defenseless old grandma like me to be any help.”

“I don’t mind,” he says, before he realizes that sounds like he’s putting the elderly woman as a burden on his shoulders. “No, that’s not right. What I meant was - ,”

“Shouldn’t you be opening the door instead of talking?”

Oh. He snaps his mouth shut before he pushes the piece of furniture. His Aura flickers on as he wraps himself in it securely before he holds the door open for Maria, and the two of them make their way down the porch steps to the left side of the house where a huge pile of half-cut logs are waiting to be chopped into firewood. He looks around for an axe as Maria settles on a wooden bench nearby, then quietly holds it in his hands as he feels the weight of the tool against his palms. It's much heavier than what he's become accustomed to with The Long Memory, and he tries hard not to wince at the thought of Ozpin's weapon of choice that had aided him throughout numerous lifetimes. He forces himself to calm the sea of emotions inside him as they start to become turbulent, and instead brushed the snow off the wood. Maria pulls out the book that she’s stowed in her cloak, and starts quietly reading as he starts chopping.

When Maria speaks up, he’s already gone through just enough to refill the woodbox again.

“Walking on thin ice with the rest of the group, aren’t you?”

Oscar blinks before he straightens up.

“I'm sorry?”

“Your attitude,” Maria replies as she turns a page. “I don’t know what the full details of your predicaments are, young man, but the way that you’re willing to make yourself as useful as you can be without being a disturbance to anyone else is frankly alarming.”

“Um," he stutters a bit before he looks towards her questioningly. "Doesn't everyone?”

“Not everyone looks like a kicked puppy when they’re left alone,” she mutters. He feels his body stiffen momentarily at her words, and he stares at her.

“What - ?”

“I’m blind, but I’m not _that_ blind.” Another page turn. “So, why don’t you tell me what’s going on inside your head?”

Oscar stares at her for another full minute before he sighs and puts the axe down.

“Nothing, apparently,” he says, and it’s true. Ozpin’s still gone, like he keeps reminding himself every couple of minutes or so. And without him, his mind is all left on his own, lonely without a regular conversation partner to bounce his thoughts off of. How on Remnant has he ever managed to live all those years without another voice in his head? And yet, he wouldn’t be able to do the same with anybody else, because he’s afraid of the rejection that he’ll inevitably face, of the prejudice that they’ll hold against him, just for having that man in his head. “I just…… It’s complicated,” he finishes lamely, realizing that everything he wants to say would probably make him sound like a madman.

“I can tell.” The elderly woman only continues to read before she catches him staring and snaps the book shut. "What we saw back there was both an eye-opener for everyone around, but frankly, those Huntsmen are out of their minds if they keep up this immature act." Maria clucks her tongue. She doesn't look up from the page. "They'll come around eventually, I'm sure."

"......That doesn't change the fact that they're risking their lives to just delay the inevitable. They have every right to be angry."

"And do you think they're right to act the way they did?"

"No."

The answer comes out faster than Oscar can stop it. The single syllable rings colder and harsher than the wind around them, and he flinches; he looks around guiltily, as if he's expecting Qrow or Yang or Blake to come around the side of the house and confront him on the matter. But they don't, and the only one still there in front of him is Maria Calavera herself.

Who, by the way, is all too eager to shrug at his uneasiness and give her own two cents on the matter.

"It's not as if what they signed up for in the first place is any different from what it used to be." Her mechanical eyes narrow as Maria huffs. "Every Huntsman and Huntress knows that they're putting their life on the line so someone else can live. If they're not ready for that, they shouldn't be training to be one. And that Qrow fellow should know it too, before he goes around punching around any young teenage boys into trees."

It doesn't help that his cheek is still stinging from the blow that Qrow had given him - well, he'd given it to _Ozpin_ , but they share the same body and it really doesn't make a big difference in who's getting punched - and he bites his bottom lip as he looks down at the pile of wood next to his feet. The snow piling on it would make the wood wet when they take it inside and melts, and he frowns as he dusts the snow off the chopped logs before straightening back up. There are so many things that he had wanted to say, so many things that he would've wanted someone else to hear, but had locked away in his fear of rejection. And maybe, Oscar thinks as the guilt starts to creep back up inside his chest, maybe this was what Ozpin felt like too?

But Maria is still talking, and Oscar strains his ears to listen to her words. 

"The others made it pretty clear how they feel about this; all of them, except you," says Maria. “So how about it? It’s not everyday that you have a stranger who’s willing to listen to you. And sometimes, the lack of a personal bond with the listening party can help you quite a bit. After all, who am I to judge you?”

And that, _that_ was what it took to send him careening down.

His mind registers a second too late that his mouth has opened, that he was pouring out all his feelings - his entire _heart,_ for Remnant’s sake - to this stranger that he’s never seen in his lifetime before today. And it felt _good_. His frustration, his anger; it’s all coming out now and now that there’s no one to listen to him in his head, he doesn’t feel so guilty about it. He talks about how Ozpin had just seemingly waltzed into his life one day and demanded that he follow him, how he had lied to all of them, how angry the group was towards both of them, and how justified the group was for their actions.

And yet, there’s a dam that’s now broken down somewhere in his heart, and the emotions that he had tried so hard to keep back were all falling out, cascading into waves of tears that were anger, frustration, guilt, and regret, and he finds himself kneeling in the snow just like Ozpin had mere hours ago. He cries for the loss of the youth days of peace that he would again never have, for his kind aunt who might never see her nephew again. He despairs that he should’ve never told the others about Jinn, how he should’ve helped to stop Ruby from asking the question that has left him too disoriented. Ignorance is bliss. It’s a privilege that had been granted to them that they didn’t even know they had until it was taken away. 

He cries about his insecure footing in the world, how he’ll never be Oscar Pine again once his mind is fully taken over. All he’ll ever be to the rest of them is an empty vessel waiting to be filled with a man who’s smarter than him, has more experience than him, has years of greatness that Oscar Pine could never hope to compete with. He is nothing, while Ozpin - the King, the Pretend God, the Settler, the Inquisitor, the Headmaster - is everything. So having the other man gone should make him feel better about having his body being his own again, right?

But then why, he gasps out while Maria only silently looks on as he continues to weep at her feet, _why does he feel so empty_?

“I miss him,” he finally confesses, and now there's no going back. The truth that he'd been so afraid to tell is out in the world. This is the one that he needs Maria for - it’s the one truth that he’ll never be able to tell anyone else in the group, because they all hated Ozpin and he fears that they’ll hate him too if they find out. But it’s just not in him to stay angry at somebody else who's only ever had the best interests for others, and the hole in his life that Ozpin had left was just too big to ignore. He had been a nobody, a farmhand who worked from sunrise to sunset in the middle of the fields of Mistral, whose only joy in life was his own aunt and reading old books about heroes and men with great ambitions and power and determination and were destined to save the world. He was nothing like those men, not Oscar Pine, who’s always barely had enough money to buy books at the local bookstore. 

And yet, Ozpin had changed that.

_“I never agreed to anything.”_

_‘No, you didn't. And neither did I, at first. But you do have an opportunity.’_

_“For what?”_

‘ _Greatness, hopefully. Greatness in knowing that, when the world needed help, you were the one to reach out your hand._ ’

Ozpin had convinced him that _he_ could be the one to do it. Ozpin had promised him that _he_ could be more than just a farm boy. Ozpin promised him that _he_ could be the hero of the stories, that _he_ could help save the world, that _he_ could help to defeat the forces that were conspiring against Remnant’s peace. Ozpin had fed him confidence to strive to become more than what he currently was, and had promised him that he’d be there for every step of the way. 

A hollowness now exists where the other mind used to reside. A warmth. A presence sometimes annoying, but most times - Oscar only realizes this as he crouches forward in anguish until his forehead is nearly touching the snow - _comforting_. That presence is no longer there, shut off from the rest of the world as if it didn't exist. It is only now on this icy farm as he grips the snow with the palms of his hands - as _he_ had, he remembers, and his heart clenches painfully - and has his flickering Aura in check, that it had been Ozpin who taught him how to use the power in the first place. That while it was true that Ozpin had talked him into leaving his aunt and the farm into the unknown world without telling him of the true nature of their task, it was also he who had stayed true to his promise and guided him every step of the way. He remembers how the older soul had told him stories of the world Oscar’s never known of as he sits in the train so that the City of Mistral didn't seem quite so foreign as it might have been. It was he who taught him how to fight with The Long Memory, and how to protect himself in hand-to-hand combat should he ever lose grip on their weapon.

It is with an aching heart that Oscar now remembers the time when the nightmares of Haven's fight had woken him up gasping for air like a fish out of water at three in the morning. It had been Ozpin who stirred awake from where he was still recuperating in his mind after he had forcefully taken control and had done everything in his power _to keep them both safe_. It had been Ozpin who had suggested that they go down to the kitchen for some hot chocolate to calm his nerves and wrap himself in a blanket so he wouldn't catch a cold. And throughout it all, the old wizard had murmured words of kindness and comfort as Oscar desperately swallowed wails of grief while the others slept as he struggled to come to terms with the fact that whatever normalcy that had remained of his life had finally been stripped away completely. It was Ozpin who told him that sitting on the balcony for some fresh air might do him some good, to look up at the broken moon that filled the vast, dark sky, and the stars that were scattered throughout the universe and dotted their sky with a beautiful twinkle. It was Ozpin who told him stories of constellations and planets while chasing away the last dregs of his nightmares so his charge could fall back into the comforts of dreamless sleep until he felt safe, safe, _safe_ under the man's watch.

Ozpin always told him that _he was sorry_ for intruding on his peaceful life, for taking away the innocence that Oscar still had. And now all of Ozpin's apologies were hurting him more than anything else.

His sobs slowly lessens in volume until they’re little more than whimpers, but the tears still refuse to stop. The snow around him is littered with imprints where he had desperately grabbed onto it as if was a lifeline. He can see Maria slowly rise from where she had been sitting on the bench, and yet he can’t bring himself to raise his head to meet her eyes.

“Why?” he sobs. His breath is shaky and his inhales feel empty, just like his mind is, just like his heart is, and he doesn’t feel so good.

“Why what?” Maria asks. Oscar's throat tightens up painfully at her confusion and it hurt to breathe.

“ _Why did you leave me alone?_ ” he finally chokes out, and both parties know that the question isn’t directed towards Maria at all, but rather to the man who had become his mentor, father figure, his _destiny_. The man who made him whole, the man who had become a beacon, a clear light ahead for Oscar to follow. He misses Ozpin, because Ozpin made him feel like he was _everything_. 

And now he was gone, leaving Oscar more lost than he had ever been in his life.

“There, there,” Maria says softly, and it’s in the kindest voice he’s heard from her since they’ve first met. “It’s alright.”

“But it’s _not_ ,” he distantly hears himself insisting, and he’s surprised at how small and broken he sounds. “ _I_ did this to him. _I_ hurt him.”

“Well, there’s no point in crying over spilled milk,” Maria gently counters him before he can continue to berate himself for his own past actions. “From what I’ve gathered, he sounds like a good man. He’ll forgive and forget.”

“Do you think he'll really forgive me?”

The question hangs heavily in the air. Even the sound of the wind blowing around them doesn't seem to be enough to mask the whispered words.

Maria sighs.

“If he’s as wise as they claim to be, then yes.”

“But what if he doesn’t?” 

He sounds like a child now, and he knows this even as he bites down on his lips when his tears threatened to spill again. But that’s what he was, wasn’t he? A child, lost and confused, who was forced into a world that he’s never known of and was now in over his head. Ozpin had made it very clear that it was okay to strive for excellence, to become stronger, to become the hero that he wanted to be. But he also allowed him to feel like it was okay to still be a fourteen year old boy who wasn’t yet cut out for the harsh life of battlefronts as they fought against the monsters of Darkness itself.

Because at the end of the day, wasn't that all he was? 

“He will,” Maria murmurs, but nothing about her words bring comfort. If Ozpin was here, he would’ve told him that it was okay to be confused. And yet, the voice in his head is still silent, and now there’s nothing there to help to calm this whirlwind of insecurity and guilt because _he’s the one who chased him away_. He’ll never be forgiven, because _he still doesn’t deserve to be forgiven_. It takes a moment for those self-deprecating thoughts to sink in. The thought of being forgiven after everything he's put the other man through makes him feel sick to the core, and he feels his stomach turn.

“I don’t know if I want him to,” he finally whispers out. He doesn't deserve to be forgiven. He doesn't deserve any of this. 

Maria doesn't answer back right away. Instead, she gently puts her hands under his shoulders and raises him up from where he’s been kneeling over so they can look at each other eye to eye. Her blue mechanized prosthetic eyes are sloping upwards again, and it’s all Oscar can do to keep himself from being reminded of another kind old soul who was altogether too ready to comfort him.

“That’s his choice to make, not yours,” she says as she dusts off the snow from where his bangs had fallen onto the wintry terrain. Oscar has to suppress a sniffle before he opens his mouth again.

But then Maria is there, and her smile is soft and reassuring, and when he sees her holding her arms outstretched, he can’t help but bury his face into her shoulders and let his worries melt away in her embrace.

“He will,” she says with such confidence, and this time, Oscar truly believes her words. “Everything will be just fine.”

The snow continues falling all around the two of them, the wooden logs and axe lying at their feet, the book and cane being neglected on the bench. It’s just the two of them in the snow, where there’s no one else to judge him for telling the truth about his inner turmoil, for being himself. 

He’ll have to face the harsh reality of the world again later, but for now, he’ll be okay in her arms.


End file.
